


All Good Things

by NorthStar



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous!AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, part one of i need to stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthStar/pseuds/NorthStar
Summary: He curses again and shifts a little, throwing an arm over Kihyun’s eyes while the other hooks around his chest, and then he starts pulling them back. Kihyun is light enough that Changkyun manages, even with his eyes closed and rays of light chasing them down as he searches for the shadows. But it’s slow, maybe too slow, and Kihyun doesn’t respond –





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW (and spoilers) at end notes.
> 
> this is not the changki fic you need, nor the changki fic you deserve
> 
> but i have seven misc fics around five digits thousand words each, and i just wanted a break. this wasn't supposed to get so long. which is why it's so clearly written in a few hours without proofreading, so i think there are some grammatical oddities and annoying vocabulary choices. oh well. would've loved to return to this concept at some point if i had more time and a better idea of how to stabilize the world.
> 
> more or less inspired by infinite's "the eye" and "btd" because i firmly believe that the two of them are set in the same universe, five years difference be damned. although the final scene is taken from "moon child" which i haven't seen or thought about in like eight years so i know what i'm going to do tonight. go watch it. it's gay af and has pretty japanese men.

 

 

It’s still safe, as long as it’s night.

 

They can crawl along in the shadows, holding on like cockroaches in musty corners of the world until they can outride the storm and face the dawn again with straight spines, proud eyes.

 

Except, not really.

 

They are on the periphery of a history with a happy ending, close enough to imagine in blissful sleep but painfully distanced once they wake up and see the darkness, pale faces, defeat echoed in the walls. There is nothing more to find, to rediscover, to maintain.

 

The world is just gone.

 

It’s dark now. Not like a blackness, permeating and distressed, but a muted, dull lack of brightness, grey tones and blurred edges. Things are missing, forgotten by the universe, and forgotten by those who should have remembered them.

 

At least most of the time.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun wanders the halls aimlessly.

 

It is an aimless existence, but he pretends to find something, anything, that can give any sort of semblance to sporadic elements instead of that drowning stasis. It’s hard, but he lets his mind run, attempting to send it back in time when the floor had colours and the breeze flew freely. He paints an image on the empty carpet before him, sees flowers, children, old candy wrappers, cans of beer, discarded knives, blood.

 

He’s sure he is missing something in between all of that.

 

But his memories are as distant, intangible to him as the air he breathes, thick, decayed and obstructing. It didn’t use to be that way either, he knows this, somehow, even if it’s not something imprinted in the vague impressions he has of a time before _this._

Pollution.

 

Rot.

 

Death.

 

He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that it’s bad. It’s worse than what was there before.

 

But that time has passed anyway, Changkyun thinks. He doesn’t lose himself in a past he can’t recreate – he isn’t able to do that. He finds a new speck of dust on an old table, paints a new pattern in the grey layers, rubs it between his fingers in even motions. It blends quite nicely into the colour of his skin in the dusk. That’s what he can do.

 

It’s not lightheartedness, and it’s not resignation. It just is. Changkyun is something in-between, stuck in a limbo where either pole is invisible to him and all he sees is _this,_ the middle shade in front of him.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not a lonely existence. He has Kihyun, who doesn’t do much, even relatively speaking, but he’s there. Reliable and steadfast.

 

He spends most of his time in the crumpled bedroom somewhere in the middle of the hallway, the only room Changkyun has ever seen someone enter or exit, and the room he always returns to when the night ends and days roll in. The other doors lead to nowhere, he is pretty sure, because there are no one else around, and closed doors only lead to nothingness.

 

It’s alright with just the two of them.

 

Kihyun has already closed the curtains when he comes back, casting a dark shadow over the room, but never completely black, because the curtains aren’t thick enough for that. They block out most of the light haze, but some of it still shows through the thin fibres, and that’s why they pushed the bed towards the opposite wall, hid it behind a large cupboard and a bookshelf, so they could sleep in peace.

 

“Good morning,” Kihyun says as he unbuttons his shirt, eyes following Changkyun’s trek across the room.

 

“Morning,” Changkyun replies and sits down on the old straw chair next to the bed. He doesn’t know when, but at some point something sharp got stuck under his heel, and it’s sort of been stabbing him the entire night. An annoyance, but hardly inconvenient. When he pulls his foot up to rest on the other knee, he is barely able to spot something strange through the gloomy light billowing over worn skin. Maybe it’s a sharp pebble.

 

He picks at it for a few seconds, fruitlessly, because whenever he tries to brush it off it just tugs at something beneath his skin and it sort of hurts. He’s not sure he can get a firm grip on it either, since it’s so small, and his sight so limited.

 

“Here, let me,” Kihyun gently pushes his hands away and kneels in front of Changkyun to look at the offending intruder.

 

He’s so thin, Changkyun notes, looking at the hints of bone visible on Kihyun’s back, shoulders, side. The shirt is thrown away, hanging off the cupboard haphazardly, and Kihyun looks cold, even if the temperature is as steady as anything else in his existence, nestling at a comfortable medium warmth that compliments the stuffy air. He’s not sure why exactly it is like that – surely the weather isn’t supposed to be that stable? – but that’s how it is, regardless.

 

“Oh,” Kihyun says, and Changkyun can’t help the little exclamation he makes when Kihyun pulls the thing out of his foot, leaving cool fingerprints on his skin and a stab of pain in his heel. Too deep for a pebble, too large for a splinter. “It’s an old button pin. Let’s hope it doesn’t get infected.”

 

He holds up the little steel piece so Changkyun can take a look, but he doesn’t want anything to do with it. Kihyun stands up and puts it in one of the drawers of the cupboard instead, along with the other things they have picked up and keep in their room, for no particular reason. The only times they open the drawer is when they put new stuff in. Changkyun wouldn’t recognize half of the items in the drawers now.

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he comments as Kihyun returns to the bed. “Worst case, I’ll lose a foot and stay in this bed. You’ll have to take care of me, then.”

 

Kihyun smiles at him, content, fond, and raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like a horrible fate.”

 

“Only for you.”

 

“Yeah, you’ll have it easy,” Kihyun flicks his forehead gently and scoots back on the bed. “Come on, let’s go to sleep. I’m tired.”

 

“You haven’t done anything tonight,” Changkyun whines, but obliges nonetheless, throwing off his shirt and stripping out of his trousers quickly. He can’t even be bothered to gather them up to hang over the furniture, but leaves the pile unattended on the floor at the foot of the bed as he sneaks in next to Kihyun.

 

“I haven’t,” Kihyun agrees, sounding almost guilty, or possibly sad, but he covers it up quickly with a sardonic smirk as Changkyun settles in comfortably, close enough to look cross-eyed at each other through the darkness. “But don’t you know how tired you get by doing nothing?”

 

“No, that’s just you getting old.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it probably is.”

 

He cuts off the next argument by shifting slightly, bringing an arm over Changkyun’s shoulder and gently pushing his head against his own neck. They are similar in height, but it’s a position they have learned to adjust to through many slumbers, and Changkyun sighs contentedly as he brings his own hand across Kihyun’s side, the warmth of his fingertips tickling cold skin as it settles on his lower back comfortably.

 

He smiles into Kihyun’s neck when he feels a soft touch on top of his head. A little kiss, chaste, unsensual, affectionate.

 

“I’ll take care of you.” It’s quiet, barely discernible through the thick air and mumbled against Changkyun’s head, but he hears it anyway.

 

It’s kind of nice.

 

They could almost be alright.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun wakes up alone in the bed, which is unusual, but not unheard of, and he grumbles a little to himself as he tries to turn around, cover his face in the pillow and fend off the invasive glow a little longer.

 

But –

 

Glow?

 

He sits up immediately, twists and turns a little in his haste to get up, get out, get to the light – his legs tangle a little in the sheets and he ends up stumbling onto the floor and shakes the cover off of his feet clumsily, already moving towards the window on the other side of the room.

 

“Kihyun, don’t – !”

 

But it’s too late, he can’t hear him now. Kihyun sits in front of the window, almost slouched, but his eyes face the window, curtains pulled back to let the brightness flow freely through the stained glass. It’s another sort of distance, not physical but more than just mental, and Changkyun manages a loud curse on the short run from the bed to the crouched figure.

 

He slides to his knees behind Kihyun, making sure to look away the minute he steps within the illuminated area. It takes half a second too long when he fumbles around until his hands meet over Kihyun’s eyes and cuts off the light. He already feels dizzy, disoriented, and the timer started a long time ago.

 

“Shit, Kihyun,” he grits out and rubs his thumbs in circular motions over feverish temples, coaxing him back, calling him through touch. It burns now, drying out his body and jumbling his mind, but he persists.

 

He has to.

 

“Kihyun, can you hear me?!”

 

No answer.

 

Not even a twitch.

 

Changkyun doesn’t know how long Kihyun sat like that before he woke up, but it can’t have been long, he’s still here, he’s not gone yet – but they don’t have much time to spare.

 

The dull aches progress to become angry stabs, and he is painfully aware of the burns of each passing second.

 

He curses again and shifts a little, throwing an arm over Kihyun’s eyes while the other hooks around his chest, and then he starts pulling them back. Kihyun is light enough that Changkyun manages, even with his eyes closed and rays of light chasing them down as he searches for the shadows. But it’s slow, maybe too slow, and Kihyun doesn’t respond –

 

Changkyun’s muscles relax a bit as they make it to the shade, stop protesting and crying out every time he moves, but his head still pounds and something screams nonsense in his ears while he tries to drag Kihyun onto the bed.

 

“Come on!” He shouts, trying to block out the noise and rouse Kihyun from his daze. “Snap out of it, Kihyun! You’re here, now, here! Not there!”

 

A sharp exhale, but that’s all he gets when he finally drops Kihyun on the bed and collapses next to him, giving himself a moment of reprieve. But he can rest later. He can’t – this can’t wait.

 

He shifts around to stand on his hands and knees above Kihyun, taking in the lax expression, unseeing eyes, complete lack of life. It has happened before, and it will happen again – but it breaks Changkyun’s heart a little each time. Tears down his hope, shakes his confidence and clouds his memory.

 

It’s destroying them both.

 

“Come on, Kihyun, get back,” Changkyun says again, tapping Kihyun’s cheek, dragging a hand across his forehead, smoothing sweat-soaked hair back. “Come on, you know where you are.”

 

Kihyun makes a feeble sound in response, but it’s not enough, and Changkyun lets out a low growl as he pulls his hand back and curls it into a fist, pausing only for a brief moment before slamming it into Kihyun’s cheek.

 

It gets a reaction, sure enough – Kihyun’s head whips to the side, his eyes close and he makes another sound, more pained, like a whimper, and Changkyun curses, because he had hoped he would finish this off soon.

 

“Kihyun, Kihyun, come here,” he says once more, shakes Kihyun’s shoulder, rattles the bones, but Kihyun doesn’t give him anything. He’s in a nightmare and Changkyun is the projection of his terrors, something he can will away if he tries hard enough – that’s the level of cognition Changkyun would expect, if there is any semblance of consciousness left in Kihyun at this point.

 

He doesn’t want to go there, but he has to.

 

“Kihyun,” he calls again, still loud, still desperate, but not quite as aggressive as before. He puts his hand on Kihyun’s cheek, right above a blooming bruise, and leans down a little to let his breath fan over Kihyun’s nose.

 

“Kihyun, who did you lose?”

 

Kihyun’s eyes fly open.

 

“No!” He screams, pushes at Changkyun, almost enough to topple him over the other side of the bed, but he’s still disoriented, weak, and Changkyun manages to stand his ground even as Kihyun starts thrashing. “No! No, please, I can’t - !”

 

“Kihyun, who did you lose?!” Changkyun repeats, louder, making sure Kihyun hears over his own sobs. Tears are falling in streams, running wildly across his face when he whips it across the pillow, but Changkyun isn’t letting go,

 

“No, please, no, no – “

 

“Kihyun! Who did you lose?!”

 

“Hoseok!”

 

And that’s it.

 

That’s what he needed.

 

If there is one thing that always calls Kihyun’s attention, it’s Hoseok.

 

With a sigh, Changkyun leans back, uncurls his hands from Kihyun and watches as he crumbles piece by piece, folding into himself and away from Changkyun, but alive, present, just for a while longer.

 

There are some things that will always bring him back.

 

Changkyun knows the same applies to himself as well.

 

But he doesn’t want to think about that.

 

Instead, he throws the covers over Kihyun’s shivering body and steps around the room along the walls, following the shadows until he is next to the window. He just about manages to drag the curtains closed again, letting darkness settle over the room as a comforting blanket.

 

He slips under the covers wordlessly and pulls Kihyun closer until the trembles subside.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Minhyuk is there.

 

Changkyun and Kihyun can’t say why, but they know Minhyuk, and sometimes he is there, floating around like a spectre, and that’s fine. They know it’s fine.

 

Then he is gone again and they keep on existing.

 

There is absolutely no rhyme or reason, pattern or logic to what Minhyuk does.

 

At least, that’s what they think – they can’t quite keep track of everything he does, has done, will do, after all.

 

Changkyun asked him once, where he was when he wasn’t with them.

 

“What do you mean?” Minhyuk had retorted. “I’m always with you.”

 

Changkyun still doesn’t know if he meant it or not.

 

It’s alright, though. He likes Minhyuk, and he mostly remembers Minhyuk when he comes over, so that’s all good.

 

Even Kihyun knows Minhyuk well enough to recognize his face, more often than not.

 

But none of them knows how this came to be.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun remembers Hoseok.

 

Or, more specifically, he remembers the name Hoseok. He remembers there being a Hoseok. He doesn’t remember anything about him, not like Kihyun does.

 

Not like Kihyun does, sometimes.

 

It’s right after and right before he falls for the lure of the light, when the ache in his heart is too much and he allows himself to remember that person from what has become a past life – he lets himself remember Hoseok and grasps at the wispy ghosts of his memory, chasing any opportunity to see him again.

 

The light lets him see Hoseok again – the Hoseok he remembers, the Hoseok he saves somewhere in deep in his mind.

 

But the light also threatens to take him away from Changkyun.

 

It’s not real anyway, but the pain is real, and any alleviation is welcome.

 

Changkyun knows he can never be Hoseok.

 

He doesn’t know exactly what it means to be Hoseok, because he doesn’t know anything about the Hoseok Kihyun loved, not anymore, at least – and he doesn’t think Kihyun would accept that either way.

 

It’s Hoseok.

 

Just Hoseok.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Kihyun doesn’t like it when Changkyun escapes their bed during the day to wander about the halls and rooms, but sometimes he does it anyway.

 

It’s like a dance then, when he has to tiptoe around the reflections, beams of light, a bright spot here, open window there.

 

The closest thing to a rush he can get, and it’s not too bad, as far as self-entertainment goes. He doesn’t know what he used to do before, can’t seem to quite get a hold of it – it’s there, lurking at the edge of his consciousness, but the string tying it to the rest of his brain has been melted by the light.

 

There are worse things to lose.

 

Occasionally, he missteps, and it’s not pretty. Flashes before his eyes, of a boy, a girl, two boys, a group – then there is one more boy, lingering on his retinas, with bright red hair and crescent eyes. He smiles, laughs, and Changkyun’s heart tears, screams.

 

He doesn’t want to experience that pain – but he also wants to see the boy again. He wants to remember his _name –_ he feels like he should, feels horrible for not even knowing where to start.

 

Who was he? What was he to Changkyun? Where is he now?

 

The answers are probably worse than ignorance, but Changkyun doesn’t know that for sure, and he can’t imagine what knowing would be like.

 

Maybe that’s what Kihyun feels when he sees Hoseok in his dreams.

 

He can’t fault Kihyun, not really – he thinks he understands.

 

He doesn’t want to understand completely.

 

It’s why he doesn’t talk to Kihyun about the boy. He must have mentioned the memory, maybe – but Kihyun doesn’ talk about Hoseok either. They know that there exists someone, but they don’t discuss that, because why would they?

 

They can’t change the memories.

 

Only erase them.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

“There is nothing wrong with living,” Minhyuk says one night, when he is there, all of a sudden, like he does sometimes. “But there is nothing wrong with not living either.”

 

“You’re useless,” Changkyun says and tosses a pillow at him. Minhyuk pretends to be mortally wounded and falls over dramatically, making inappropriate noises and exaggerated arm motions as he does so.

 

“Save me from this terror!” He cries. “I’m dead! Killed by a merciless monkey!”

 

“Why a monkey?” Kihyun asks, but he’s laughing as well, not brightly, but it’s enough.

 

“He threw a boulder at me, he must be King Kong,” Minhyuk explains with a sigh.

 

“What was that?”

 

“King – oh never mind,” Minhyuk cuts himself off and looks between Changkyun and Kihyun with an uncertain look, unsettled, distressed. “I’m – I’m not talking right.”

 

“Okay,” Changkyun doesn’t look convinced, and throws another pillow at Minhyuk instead.

 

“That’s unfair!” Minhyuk bellows before gathering the pillows and clutching them to his chest. “Well, your mistake, now they’re all mine! You can’t have them back.”

 

“Well, we need to sleep on them today,” Kihyun points out. He doesn’t point out that Minhyuk sleeps somewhere else, because they don’t really know. They just assume, when he is there – and when he isn’t, they don’t think about it.

 

“You should have thought of that before you let this little rascal abuse me so,” Minhyuk sticks out his tongue at them and rolls around on the floor in a small parody of a victory dance, until Changkyun grows tired of watching him and attacks in a flurry of awkward limbs and blind love for his pillows.

 

“To be fair, you usually deserve it,” Kihyun kicks at the two of them when they come too close to where he sits. “Usually. I think.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Minhyuk admits and shoves Changkyun away before conceding one pillow. “That’s the problem.”

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not that Kihyun thinks about Hoseok all the time.

 

Sometimes he forgets that Hoseok existed, that he once pledged his life to this mysterious man he remembers so little of now.

 

But his heart never forgets.

 

Even if the name _Hoseok_ doesn’t flash across his mind, followed by whatever visual appearance Hoseok has etched in Kihyun’s eyes, Changkyun knows that there is a part of Kihyun that can never let Hoseok go. A part of him that feeds poison into his bloodstream, distresses his mind, weighs down his heart.

 

His entire being is haunted by Hoseok even if his consciousness is somewhere else, and it’s more than destructive to his existence. Changkyun knows this. Probably better than Kihyun himself knows.

 

Sometimes they can go long periods without Kihyun mentioning, crying over or even remembering Hoseok. Changkyun usually doesn’t realize this until after they hit a bad period again and it all rushes back.

 

Kihyun hates the light much more than Changkyun, but he also falls prey to it far more often.

 

That’s when he gets back to Hoseok, and Changkyun watches him slip away, helplessly, frustratingly.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

His mouth is on Kihyun’s neck, placing tender kisses and gentle licks along taut veins, soft skin, a defined jawline, and Kihyun makes small, appreciative noises as one hand tangles in Changkyun’s hair and the other slides down his chest carefully. Changkyun has Kihyun’s body pinned between his arms, but Kihyun was never one to lie pliant, still while he did all the work.

 

His hands move with practiced ease, stroking downwards and finding sensitive spots, maybe even remembering them, until they go lower, and Changkyun pauses for a sharp inhale when Kihyun’s small, cold fingers find his length.

 

“Please,” he mutters against Kihyun’s jaw, and Kihyun chuckles a little before turning his head to meet Chankgyun’s lips in a small kiss.

 

“Don’t worry,” he says, mildly, and starts moving his hands again. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

There is this one time Kihyun joins him for a walk, to see something else besides the walls of their bedroom, and it is actually quite a nice stroll, as if every corner is new, every door seems too exotic today because Changkyun doesn’t have to experience them alone. He is sure they have gone down here before, the two of them, but it’s too far gone now.

 

He shows Kihyun his drawings in the dust, the patterns of bleached wood where unblocked windows have let the light in to tear at the same spot over and over again, and Kihyun actually smiles, laughs, and Changkyun lets himself grin with him.

 

But they forget that time moves on.

 

Suddenly the night has become day, and the windows no longer reflect the blackness outside, but a creeping light, and neither of them realize that the air is getting brighter until the glow tickles Kihyun’s skin and makes his lungs seize in the blink of an eye.

 

“No!”

 

Kihyun throws himself against the wall, huddling away from the light, and Changkyun leaps back almost immediately to escape the angle as well.

 

“No, no, please don’t, no, I’m sorry…” Kihyun mumbles to himself, to someone far away, as he crouches and presses the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… Please…”

 

“Hey, Kihyun, come here,” Changkyun kneels down next to him, puts his arms around his shoulders and pulls him close. “It’s alright, it was just – you’re here, you’re fine, it’s fine.”

 

“No…. No – “

 

“Kihyun, stay here, yeah? Please stay here.”

 

“No, no, I don’t… Please…” Kihyun’s breathing is shaky, and Changkyun can’t do anything but rub his arms gently to keep him from slipping away, heat him up, fool his senses.

 

“Who did you lose, Kihyun?”

 

“Hoseok…” It’s mumbled, like he is scared, like the name terrifies him as much as the images from the light do. Like he doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to see, but that’s wrong, because Changkyun knows that’s all he wants to do.

 

“You’re alright, Kihyun,” he says again, repeats it like a mantra, to Kihyun, to himself. “It’s alright, you… Let’s go and sleep, yeah?”

 

It takes him a few seconds, but eventually Kihyun nods and allows Changkyun to help him to his feet and guide them back to their room.

 

They’re quiet tonight, but still end up in each other’s arms, one shivering and sobbing, the other resigned.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s raining today.”

 

“What? How do you know?”

 

“I checked.”

 

“Through the window?” Changkyun bites his lip. “You’re not supposed to do that – “

 

“Well, I did, anyway.” Kihyun turns back from the still closed curtains to give Changkyun a look. “Come on, Changkyun. Just a little trip. Fresh air. A view. We don’t get chances like these very often, you know.”

 

“I know, but…” Changkyun wrinkles his nose. It’s a habit he’s picked up from Kihyun, who always wrinkles his nose like there is no tomorrow.

 

If only facial tics had such an impact.

 

“What if the clouds disappear while we’re up there?”

 

“No,” Kihyun shakes his head. “We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

 

“You – “ Changkyun can’t even finish his sentence, because Kihyun is running out that door, giving his shoulder a pat on the way out.

 

And he can’t, he really can’t refuse when Kihyun actually tries to do something more than just staying in their room.

 

So he follows.

 

Through the hallway to the final door, leading to a staircase, leading to a new door, leading to the roof. They both know the way, but Changyun can’t remember being up here, ever. He can’t even remember climbing the stairs, but surely, he must have. Otherwise he wouldn’t know that the door was a muted grey, instead of black or pale yellow, he wouldn’t have recognized the bucket next to the banister at the top platform, he wouldn’t have skipped the twenty-seventh step instinctually.

 

Kihyun runs along ahead of him, turning back once in a while to make sure he follows, always with a gentle smile, but it doesn’t feel real, not today. Not last night either. Possibly not the night before either.

 

Changkyun wants to go to bed instead.

 

But then they hit the top, and Kihyun only glances over at him one more time before shouldering the door open.

 

The platform is flooded by light, but not toxic, bright light, just the kind of absence of darkness that’s alright, that they can survive in. It’s dull, pale and almost monochromatic, but it’s –

 

Changkyun steps out, and this is actually the world outside.

 

It’s so strange. It stretches out forever, never-ending, diverse, destroyed.

 

Above them is the sky, sick and calm instead of aggressively cheerful. Pouring water over them, in a refreshing coldness that taps gently along Changkyun’s cheeks like a careful touch. It’s simultaneously too close and too far away, and just looking up at something too abstract for his comprehension instead of the familiar ceiling of the hallway and their room is almost nauseating.

 

Changkyun looks down instead.

 

But when his eyes slide over the railings at the edge of the rooftop, he spots an unexpected element.

 

Light hair. Dark coat.

 

“Minhyuk?” He calls out, and Minhyuk turns to them, waving.

 

Waving, but not smiling, not calling them over.

 

Changkyun and Kihyun only have to exchange a brief glance before striding towards him anyway.

 

“What are you doing up here?” Changkyun asks, coming to lean against the railings to face Minhyuk.

 

But Minhyuk just shrugs.

 

“Looking,” he says. “Thinking. Remembering.”

 

“Remembering what?” Kihyun frowns, and wraps his arms around himself. It’s slightly chillier up here… Or maybe it’s because of the rain, dripping slowly still, but the drops leave lumpy, wet marks on Kihyun’s thin shirt and drags Changkyun’s hair down in limp sections.

 

“What….” Minhyuk echoes, and looks down at his shoes, his smile almost bitter. He is soaked – must have been here a while. “A lot of things.”

 

“You’re not being yourself today,” Changkyun remarks, making Minhyuk look up at him sharply.

 

“What do you know of that?” He says, eyes narrowing. “Is that based on what you think you remember? Or what you want to remember?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you know who I am, Changkyun?” He turns around. “Or you, Kihyun? Do you know who I am?”

 

“You’re Minhyuk?” Kihyun says hesitantly and glances over at Changkyun. “That’s… That’s who you’ve always been, isn’t it?”

 

Minhyuk stares at him before letting out a small chuckle.

 

“Right,” he says, and then the smile is back, the half-hearted, bitter smile that looks horrendously out of place on Minhyuk’s normally cheery visage. “Right, you’re – well, you’re not wrong, I guess.”

 

“That’s very vague.”

 

“Yeah.” He pauses, as if he’s thinking about his next words very carefully. “I lied to you, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah.” Again a pause. “Living and dying. You can’t compare them after all.”

 

He takes a few steps back from the railing, stares hard at the two of them. “I’m leaving today.”

 

“What?”

 

“Are we on a broken record right now?” Minhyuk makes a face at Changkyun, but it’s all in good spirits. “I’m leaving. I… There’s someone I miss a lot.”

 

“Are you leaving to find them?” Kihyun sounds genuinely concerned, worried about Minhyuk’s agenda, maybe – he likes Minhyuk, after all. Changkyun does too. They don’t want to see him leave them all alone.

 

But then again, they probably wouldn’t remember.

 

“That’s… One way of looking at it,” Minhyuk shakes his head slightly. “I’m leaving to see them.”

 

“Isn’t that the same?” Changkyun asks, and Minhyuk looks at him with such _pity_ that he almost feels insulted.

 

“No,” he says slowly. “I wish it was, but… Ah, this is getting too difficult.”

 

“But where are you going?” Kihyun steps up next to Minhyuk and grabs his arm. It’s solid, warm under his coat despite the chilly rain, and he doesn’t pull away. “It’s dangerous… To leave…”

 

“I know,” Minhyuk’s free arm comes up to pat his cheek, drying wet tracks with his finger before the rain touches down on his face again, and for once Kihyun doesn’t pull away from him. “It’s very dangerous. That’s the point.”

 

And Changkyun watches as realization falls on Kihyun’s expression, sees him understand something – Changkyun can’t say _what,_ because he feels like he is still missing an important part of what’s going on. But Kihyun gets it, he gets what Minhyuk is doing, and judging from the sad defeat etched in a little wrinkle between his eyes, he doesn’t like it.

 

“Well… I won’t see you later, then,” Minhyuk says, detaching himself from Kihyun and heading back towards the door with one final look at the two of them over his shoulder. “Take care! And don’t look at the light.”

 

Changkyun looks after him, has half a mind to run after him and pull him back, but to what end, anyway? Minhyuk comes and goes as he likes, it’s only natural that he disappears from their existence when he feels like it, leaving no traces behind himself except for a hollow echo in the deepest crevices of their memory.

 

Kihyun doesn’t even follow Minhyuk’s final steps with his eyes, but stares at a small puddle somewhere to his left.

 

They stand in silence until the door slams, and then after, until Changkyun grows uneasy and looks up at the sky again. It’s still raining, but he thinks the clouds look less grey than they did before, like they are opening up, like they will disappear soon.

 

He walks up to Kihyun and tugs on his sleeve. It’s wet and cold.

 

“Let’s go inside,” he says quietly.

 

Kihyun looks up at him, expression unreadable, and just nods. His hand twists to grab a hold of Changkyun’s, but he doesn’t lead them this time, just follows when Changkyun pulls them towards the door, down the stairs, back to their room.

 

The curtains are still closed, keeping everything dark and comfortable, shielded, and they make their way to the bed as wordlessly as the trek down. Changkyun barely has the time to settle in under the covers before Kihyun grabs him in a tight hold, pressing his face to Changkyun’s bare, warm chest. He’s still cold, still thin, almost frail when Changkyun brings his arms around his shoulders.

 

He doesn’t cry, at least not while Changkyun is awake.

 

He doesn’t cry for Minhyuk.

 

They sleep all day, and come night, Changkyun is the only one who gets up. He goes for a little walk, searching, exploring little crooks and corners. He opens one of the other doors, twenty-three short steps from the room they called theirs, but there is nothing in there. Blackness, emptiness, nothing he can or wants to look at.

 

He closes it again and moves on.

 

When he comes back, Kihyun is still lying in bed, looking like he hasn’t moved at all. Changkyun kneels in front of him, by the edge of the bed, and moves a bit of fringe out of Kihyun’s eyes. His eyes are blank, staring idly in front of him, but Changkyun can tell that he’s still here, so it’s okay.

 

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asks, quietly.

 

At first, Kihyun doesn’t respond, just continues to stare ahead. But when Changkyun’s finger pokes him on the tip of his nose, he blinks into awareness and nods once.

 

“Okay.”

 

He climbs in behind Kihyun’s back, fully clothed but unminding as he gently slides an arm around Kihyun’s waist, searching until he finds the hands he’s looking for. Not warm, but not chilled either. A medium temperature, preserved under the covers since Changkyun left earlier that night. But that’s fine, he can warm them up again.

 

Kihyun stays in bed the next night as well.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun know he shouldn’t think about him.

 

That boy, with the red hair and smiling eyes. The rest of his features are kind of blurred, and Changkyun doesn’t know what they are – _were_ , but he knows his affection for this boy as well as the feeling of Kihyun’s skin beneath his fingertips.

 

He shouldn’t think about that boy, but suddenly, he does.

 

Kihyun is tracing patterns on the tapestry behind him, long fingers idly following the delicate arches and thinning strokes of the elegant, but indiscernible drawings along the wall.

 

Changkyun knows he isn’t alone, but he closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in that illusion, to fall back into his memories to search for that boy. Even if he shouldn’t do that – it’s not going to end well, and he probably won’t be able to find anything rewarding either way.

 

But he has the time, and he is tired of ignoring the feeling of longing, the little tug at the edge of his consciousness that he knows Kihyun gives into more often than not.

 

He doesn’t feel guilty when he shuts out the world, goes deep into what little he remembers from before, what he has collected from unwilling encounters with the light, when the physical burn is accompanied by painful flashes of another time, another existence, a faceless companion.

 

Lost memories of a good life, with mundane worries and dynamic days. With days. Not just nights.

 

There was a lot of laughing with this boy, freely, unreserved and abundant, less crying, less pain. They were both happy.

 

He tries to come up with a name again, a face, something specific about this boy that can give him an identiy – a distinguishable feature, trait, anything. He remembers himself together with the boy, how he felt about him, how he smiled at him, laughed at him, tickled his sides. But he doesn’t know how the boy responded. The distant pictures in his mind only provides a vague outline, a blurred sketch of this person he knows is the dear to him.

 

It’s frustrating that this stranger should be so elusive, but at the same time, Changkyun feels his heart swell when he thinks about him. Them. Whatever they had, whatever they lost.

 

It’s bittersweet, in a way.

 

He wants to know more, dig out more from his memories, but how – only the light. He could step into it, feel the heat on his skin, the burn in his veins and screams in his head. But that’s not what he wants either. He doesn’t want lost memories disturbed by heartache and the accelerated destruction of his body, not even for this.

 

So he tries.

 

He tries, even though he knows it’s futile, to bring him back through his own abilities.

 

He knows he is failing.

 

That outline is visible to him again, the ghost of someone he loved, who looks at him even though Changkyun can’t look at him, maybe it’s in disappointment, maybe he wishes Changkyun would try harder to hold onto him and the memories where there was a _them._ Maybe that’s what he thinks, this odd apparition, but Changkyun doesn’t think that’s the case.

 

He thinks the boy doesn’t want Changkyun to hurt himself on his behalf, not too much, not like this.

 

But Changkyun might be imagining this, might mix his ideals and wishes with actual memories, and it’s hard to know what’s really the boy and what’s his own conjures. 

 

_“Changkyun, let’s go up there!”_

_“Up there?”_

This is true, he thinks. They were small, voices high-pitched and knees scraped, innocent, unknowing, bold and together.

 

_“But isn’t it too high? What if I fall into the sea! I can’t swim!”_

The boy isn’t any more visible to him in his younger incarnation, still a blur of huge smiles and small eyes, present in vague memories, but scarcely more than the surroundings, present and a catalyst to Changkyun’s emotions from that time, but not as himself. Not his own person, just the echo of someone else. Someone Changkyun doesn’t know anymore.

 

_“You’ll be fine, Changkyun! It’s okay!”_

_“How do you know that?”_

_“I know! Because I’ll take care of you!”_

“Changkyun?”

 

Kihyun’s voice pulls him back and he opens his eyes to look at Kihyun’s concerned expression, only inches away from his own face. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed and Kihyun is bending down before him, hands on his knees, pale, almost luminescent in the darkness.

 

“Hmm? Did you say anything?”

 

“No.” He straightens and tilts his head slightly to the side, and Changkyun can see the hint of a frown emerge. “You just looked unhappy.”

 

“Oh.” He looks down at his hands, curled in his lap. “I guess… I tried to remember.”

 

“And how did that go?”

 

He shrugs. “Same as ever.”

 

“I don’t know what that means,” Kihyun shakes his head slightly, but his lips tug upwards in a small smile, crinkling slightly at his eyes. Erasing the frown. Sympathetic. “But it looked tough.”

 

“It’s… Not always pleasant,” Changkyun agrees with a sigh. It’s not really unhappy, it’s just tiring, unsatisfactory. But he can live with it.

 

Kihyun hums thoughtfully, and climbs to his knees behind Changkyun, putting his hands on his shoulders. The touch is gentle, slow, cold even through his shirt, but Changkyun allows himself to relax under the hold when Kihyun starts to move his hands slowly in circles, strokes, pressing at Changkyun’s muscles and bones, erasing aches he didn’t know he had.

 

It feels nice. Just relaxing, letting Kihyun make a little fuss, revelling in his undivided attention if only for a little longer.

 

Kihyun’s hands are flexible, strong, and they slide down Changkyun’s back as if his body is a treasure worth more than anything in the universe. He always starts humming as well, when he does this, quiet, melodious noises that enchants Changkyun and makes his mind wander, but in a different way than before – not chasing ghosts he can’t see, but floating in a comfortable daze without concerns, without pain.

 

“Feel better?” Kihyun’s voice whispers next to his ear. His hands have stopped, instead coming to rest across Changkyun’s chest, and he feels Kihyun’s weight draped across his shoulders. Not heavy, never inconvenient, just there.

 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Thank you.”

 

“That’s alright,” Kihyun chuckles and places a little kiss on Changkyun’s cheek. “I told you I’ll take care of you.”

 

“You did…”

 

Changkyun shifts in Kihyun’s hold, bringing one knee up to the side of the bed so he can turn more comfortably to face him. He’s still smiling, not brightly, but invitingly, and Changkyun leans forward to capture a real kiss from his lips.

 

He likes this. They spend most of their time together, but it’s the small moments of peace and tranquillity, of love, that Changkyun wishes he could preserve in his heart. The moments he wishes could erase painful memories, could replace them, and let them live unbothered.

 

That’s not what happens, though.

 

Kihyun drags one of his hands from Changkyun’s shoulder to cup his cheek, cooling it, but it’s a welcome touch, familiar and reassuring. It eases the constricted feeling in Changkyun’s chest and soothes his mind. Just simply, works.

 

Then Kihyun leans forward to steal another kiss, slow and deliberate, but just on the threshold of gentle passion. Changkyun doesn’t hesitate to respond, to show Kihyun that he’s here, he’s alright, he’s grateful. His lips mould against Kihyun’s before parting, turning up the heat between them and making use of the building friction as Kihyun slips his tongue into his mouth.

 

It’s nice.

 

It’s comfortable.

 

It’s all Changkyun can handle right now.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

Changkyun has learned, difficult as it is when your memories betray you, that he cannot take anything for granted. Especially not with Kihyun.

 

He comes back, just after the light has started to peak through the old windows in the hallway, fighting a yawn and ready to snuggle up behind Kihyun, feel his pleasant cool under warm covers, sleep peacefully for a while longer until night hits again.

 

That’s not how it goes.

 

He opens the door and has to take a step back, because the light is blinding, too bright, too big – it covers half the room, and illuminates the rest by proxy. The curtains are pulled back, one strip of cloth even ripped from the window and discarded carelessly on the floor.

 

In the middle of it all kneels Kihyun.

 

“No!”

 

Changkyun doesn’t think, just curses internally as he leaps  forward, ignoring the rapid burn and stab of glowing particles hitting his skin as he tackles Kihyun, and the momentum is enough to drive both of them away, just outside the toxic area.

 

He vaguely registers a scream, agonized, full of despair, and it seems faintly familiar.

 

He lands on top of Kihyun, grunting before bracing himself on either side of that boiling body, pushing back, up, focusing on Kihyun’s flushed face beneath him.

 

He’s sobbing now, crying and whimpering, repeating mumbled denials to himself as he shakes his head, looking past Changkyun, to the images – the images.

 

“Kihyun, snap out if!”

 

“No!” His voice matches Changkyun’s shout easily, raw, terrified, anxious, and Changkyun brings one hand up to grab his hair, gently but firmly.

 

“Kihyun – !”

 

“No!” He screams again, trying to shake Changkyun off. “No, please, let me – “

 

“Kihyun, you’re here – “

 

“No, let me go back! Let me – “

 

“Kihyun, who did you lose?” Changkyun grits his teeth, prepares himself for the metaphorical punch to the gut.

 

“Hoseok!” Kihyun calls back, quicker than normal, but his struggles don’t die down. “Hoseok, I lost Hoseok! Let me go, he’s there, he’s right there, can’t you see?! Let me go, back to him!”

 

“No, Kihyun!” Changkyun shakes his shoulders. “He’s not there! It’s just the light, Hoseok is gone!”

 

“He isn’t!” Kihyun bellows, and his voice cracks a little, from strain or grief, Changkyun doesn’t know, but either way, it’s not good. With the red, swollen eyes, tear tracks and wild look in Kihyun’s eyes – it’s painful to look at, but Changkyun has to. “He’s – I saw him! Let me go, I’ll show you! Hoseok! Hoseok, stay – !”

 

“He isn’t there!” Changkyun yells again, tries to wrestle Kihyun’s arms still when he’s suddenly toppled over, and he sees Kihyun scrambling to get to his feet – back to the light.

 

_No._

 

He jumps up, manages to grab a hold of Kihyun’s arm and drags him back down to the floor, barely keeping him outside the edge of the light, but Kihyun keeps struggling, trying to pull his arm back, to shake Changkyun off. He’s not entirely successful, and Changkyun takes the opportunity to try and pin Kihyun down again.

 

But Kihyun is desperate now, crying for Hoseok again, and continues to fight Changkyun’s more reserved restrictions. He gets one arm loose and uses it to push Changkyun away, sending him tumbling backwards –

 

And into the light.

 

Changkyun screams, feels every inch of his skin being attacked by needles of pure fire, his muscles stretch and contract as if tearing themselves apart, and then he loses sight of Kihyun and the room. He sees a bright smile, stretching into dimples and curling eyes, playful laughter and an outstretched hand, beckoning for Changkyun to follow, and he wants to – he knows that, instinctively, even if he doesn’t understand, the warm feeling in his chest combats the acid burns on his skin, but he can fix it, the boy with the smile, the boy who calls out for him –

 

_“Changkyun, we’ll be together forever, won’t we?”_

And then suddenly it stops, he can breathe again, the pain dissipates and fades along with the image of the boy, and Changkyun realizes he’s pulled out of the light, propped up against the wall with Kihyun sitting next to him in the shadow.

 

“I’m sorry, Changkyun, I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, heaving slightly, eyes almost closed as he glances at the sharp border against the light. “I’m so sorry, I – “

 

“Yeah,” Changkyun cuts him off. “Yeah, you – I know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I know. Don’t worry about it.”

 

But he can tell that Kihyun does worry about it when he turns around, looking away from the light and to the pain lingering in Changkyun’s eyes. He sighs heavily and one of his hands move to find Changkyun’s, grasping it, holding tight, and he lets out a small smile when Changkyun squeezes back, not quite as strongly, but still there.

 

He’s not mad at Kihyun, not really.

 

But then Kihyun leans in, leaves a soft kiss on Changkyun’s cheek, apologetic, sincere, and everything Changkyun doesn’t want now.

 

“No, Kihyun,” he shakes his head and looks away when Kihyun frowns at him. “Not now, sorry. I can’t just… Sorry.”

 

Kihyun complies, moving back against the wall again instead, and Changkyun pretends not too see the guilty heartbreak in his eyes.

 

It doesn’t matter if he sees it or not, though. He knows it’s there.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

He isn’t surprised when he feels Kihyun slips out of their bed quietly.

 

They had huddled together under the covers, as usual, a warm hand here, a cool touch there, not less intimate or tense, not really different. They can only fool each other for so long, after all.

 

It is unusual that Kihyun gets up before Changkyun, that he leaves the room at all, without Changkyun, no less. But that’s what he does – gets out of bed quietly, dresses, and with a final brush of his hand against Changkyun’s hair, he walks out.

 

Changkyun lies awake for a while, thinking, contemplating.

 

But eventually he gets up as well.

 

It’s odd, because it’s still light outside – he can tell through the curtains, even though they are closed again, covering the windows entirely once more. Although maybe…

 

He considers it before leaving the room as well, and when he comes upon one of the windows in the hallway, he sees it clearly. Grey skies, not bright white, not hostile, treacherous, dangerous, but sad and malleable.

 

When he gets to the roof, he sees Kihyun immediately.

 

He is staring out into the distance, towards the rubbles and destructions, black and grey and red, crumbled and silent. Dead.

 

The clouds don’t send raindrops down at him today, but instead frozen water, tiny specks of ice that glide down streams of air slowly, dancing in the breeze to disappear once they land.

 

He approaches Kihyun.

 

“Quite a day to be outside, isn’t it?” He says once he gets close enough, and it sounds unnatural and forced.

 

Kihyun nods, but doesn’t turn around.

 

Maybe Changkyun feels a bit guilty as well, even though he has no reason to, or maybe doesn’t like to see Kihyun like this, muted, sad – or it could be that Changkyun just feels lonely. Regardless of why, he steps up behind Kihyun and puts an arm around his shoulder, pulling their bodies close. Kihyun is as cool as ever, contrasting Changkyun heated temperature, but the difference is still a welcome one. It’s a distinction. Distraction.

 

“I think…” Kihyun starts slowly, but trails off again immediately.

 

Changkyun raises his eyebrows. “You think? Good to know, but it doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favours.”

 

Kihyun slaps his chest feebly, smiling slightly, but still looking at the blurred horizon.

 

“I think I want to leave,” he says, quietly. “Leave.”

 

He repeats it with emphasis, and Changkyun knows what he means.

 

He doesn’t want to, though.

 

“Leave?” He echoes. “Where?”

 

“Let’s go to the coast,” Kihyun says, almost immediately – he thought about this. He knows what he wants, even if he hesitated to bring it out. “To the sea. We can… We can take the car.”

 

“Is that what you really want?” If it is, Changkyun will follow. He can’t help it, there is nothing here but Kihyun, and even this fragile thing they have is worth more than anything else he could ever get now.

 

His existence hinges on Kihyun.

 

And Kihyun nods.

 

He wants to _leave._

“I’m…” He sighs, shakes his head and puts one hand on top of Changkyun’s. “I’m sorry, but I’m tired. I don’t think I can do this anymore, and… It’s not fair to you either.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“I know you are,” Kihyun smiles a little. It’s not a bright smile, the kind that reaches his eyes and changes his face, but it’s alright. “But you won’t be. I won’t be. What Minhyuk said – “

 

Minhyuk. Oh yes, Minhyuk.

 

Minhyuk who left to see someone he missed dearly.

 

“ – I think about it, a lot, and it’s… I think it’s time to go and see those we lost.”

 

“Hoseok.” Changkyun says it, not with resignation, not even sadness, just a statement, arbitrary piece of information. Except this isn’t arbitrary at all, it’s Kihyun.

 

“And…” Kihyun steps around to look Changkyun in the eyes, up close, before leaning forward and touching his nose to Changkyun’s cheek. “Who did you lose?”

 

“I don’t know,” Changkyun says, truthfully, and it comes out as stable as he wants. He is pleased by that.

 

“Right,” Kihyun sighs, pulls Changkyun into a tentative embrace. “I’m sorry, Changkyun.”

 

“Don’t be,” Changkyun says it with a chuckle, and brings his trembling arms around Kihyun as well. “We’ll go – to the coast, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay then.” He pauses, buries his face in Kihyun’s hair. It’s slightly wet, matted by melted snowflakes and tear tracks. He doesn’t know whose. “We’ll be alright.

 

Kihyun doesn’t have anything to say to that.

 

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 

They take a car out, buried ten flights of stairs below their room almost to the inch, and Kihyun drives because he remembers the way better. It’s still night, because they want to make it all the way to the sea before light creeps upon them.

 

It won’t matter, anyway, but it would be nice to clean things up the way they wanted to.

 

They drive mostly in silence, because Kihyun concentrates on the road, his memories, while Changkyun watches the landscape fly by them curiously. It’s dark outside, so he can’t see much, but it’s still more than he has seen – since when? Everything looks new, familiar, but not exactly the same as what he has seen before.

 

It’s strange.

 

It’s a good way to finish things, when it all comes down to nothing.

 

Kihyun drives the car all the way to a cliff, dropping down to still water some ten-twenty-thirty undisclosed feet below. It should be scary, but it isn’t. Changkyun doesn’t worry about that anymore.

 

Here and now, that would be silly.

 

Kihyun kills the engine and walks out to sit on the hood of the rusty, old car. Changkyun follows soon after, and as he steps out, he sees the signs of red on the horizon, sees the brightness getting ready to chase away the darkness of the night, and he can’t help but scoff.

 

This is it.

 

After avoiding it dutifully for so long – they are waiting for the sun.

 

“Are you ready?” He asks Kihyun.

 

“No,” Kihyun shakes his head slightly. “But as ready as I’ll ever be. You?”

 

“More or less.” He looks over at Kihyun’s profile. To see his cheeks flush with the glow from the approaching light, and it’s the first time he can recall seeing this. It’s beautiful, after all, different from the pale shades he gained in their room, or the distressed red after sitting before their window.

 

It’s such a shame that they have to go.

 

“We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

 

Kihyun turns to look at him, smile widening, and Changkyun figures the emerging light must fall on his face as well. He wonders how it looks.

 

“Yeah. We will be.”

 

They share one final kiss, fleeting and soft, with the idea of _them,_ and the people that have haunted their dreams bleeding together as the sun tops the horizon as the blazes start, blinding their eyes and chasing their minds, until their bodies fade away and all that is left is the maroon car with rotten engines.

**Author's Note:**

> what dis
> 
> i'm sorry i'm just weak for changki tiny kisses and spectre minhyuk. this is just a pretext for spectre minhyuk, isn't it
> 
> i'm very curious to hear what you got out of this (if you even made it through this weirdo thing) because i did try to create different, even conflicting implications - it would be interesting to see what you picked up!
> 
> TW: major character death, implied character death, suicide, panic attacks


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